Picking Up the Pieces
by badwolfmonica
Summary: If there was one thing Anaxandra Synder was certain about, it was that Draco Malfoy was an invaluable asset.
1. Prologue

Anaxandra sprinted as fast as her feet could carry her with the sound of shrieks reverberating in her ears as she fled. The bottom of her bare feet ached as they pounded against the hard stone floor and her lungs begged for air. She heard the screams and cackles growing louder until they became deafeningly close.

"Come out, come out wherever you are!" a female voice shrieked. Her cries echoed through the halls. "I can _smell you_!"

Loud guttural screams followed, and the echoes traveled down the hall until they tickled Anaxandra's back. One scream in particular had made its way to Anaxandra's ears and she felt her heart break. They had found her little sister…

She had been fighting against the tears threatening to fall and she finally lost the battle. The tears broke the barrier and started pouring down her face. Her pace slowed until she rounded another corner and came to a full halt; unable to pull herself together.

No, she had to keep going.

Just as Anaxandra took another step, a nearby door opened and a pair of arms flew out to grab her shoulders and pull her in. The door closed and a hand flew over her mouth. More screams filled her ears, and now the flow of tears was uncontrollable.

"Stay quiet." The voice spoke in sharp, hushed tones.

Breaking from the rough arms, she turned around to see her parents' faces illuminated by candlelight. She had been pulled into a broom closet. Her father held a finger to his lips to signal to be quiet. He turned and opened a small trap door that lay under a rug on the floor.

"I want both of you to go. When all is clear, I will meet you at the end of the tunnel."

"What is happening?" Anaxandra whispered.

Her mother clung on to her husband's arm. "I'm not leaving here without you!" she quietly cried.

"You have no choice, just go!" Her father ripped his arm out of her grip and ushered her to the trap door. Tears cascaded down her face, and it was only the begging from her father that willed her to descend the iron ladder.

Anaxandra leaned forward and kissed her father on the cheek. "Promise me you will meet us." Her father's steel gray eyes held nothing but pain as he nodded and ushered his daughter into the secret passage to meet her mother.

"Search _everywhere! _Make sure you find _all_ of them!" The violent voice was far away but Anaxandra knew they were swiftly approaching.

"I want you to run," he begged as the sound of hisses and snarls made their way closer. "I want you to run as fast as you can and don't look back."

Anaxandra watched as he closed the trap door, leaving her and her mother to stand at the base of the iron ladder.

The straight stone passageway was sparsely lit; torches lining its walls every twenty feet. It was wide enough for two people to comfortably walk side by side, and it was so long that Anaxandra couldn't even see the end. It looked like it led into oblivion.

Her attention briefly flew to the anguish of her blistered feet, the throbbing in her chest and legs, and the stinging of tears on her face. Her hands balled into fists, she could barely muster the strength to keep going, ignoring the protest of her suffering body.

"Come on, Mum!" she choked out, as she began her race to the end of the tunnel.

Anaxandra heard a weak voice echo behind her so quietly that she could barely understand what had been said. "I love you, Ana."

Disobeying her father's orders, Anaxandra stopped and looked back. She felt all the air leave her lungs. She could no longer breathe… Her mother had started running back towards the trap door.

"No…" Anaxandra breathed unsteadily. "No!"

It was too late. Her mother had begun her ascension up the ladder and through the door. There was a final locking sound and Anaxandra stood, frozen. Her mother had made her choice and there was nothing she could do. She turned and began sprinting down the long, cold tunnel. Her broken heart was struggling to beat hard enough and her feet ached, the bottom of them starting to bleed. The last thing she could hear was the high-pitched scream of her mother trailing behind her.

After a few minutes, Anaxandra had finally made it to the dimly lit end of the passageway only to find nothing; no door and no ladder. The light was scarce this far into the tunnel. She began frantically feeling around in the darkness, hoping to feel a way out. All she felt was smooth stone. Fear was coursing through her veins and caused her to start shaking. Anaxandra felt helpless. Why would her father tell her to come down here? What was she supposed to do? She didn't even have her wand.

She fell to her knees and started bawling uncontrollably, her head in her hands. They, whoever they were, could find that trap door. They could follow it and it would lead straight to her. Maybe by then she will have embraced her fate and she will die a swift death. Or maybe no one would find her at all, and she would remain down here. Starvation and thirst would take her over first, then insanity. Then, she would die alone... Yes, she would die there, never surfacing. She couldn't bring herself to go back up the entrance to the passageway and see what became of her home... of her family...

Of all the times to be a lamb rather than a lion.

Wiping the tears away, a slight glint of something shone on the floor in front of her. Cautiously, she reached out and touched it. There was a sharp tug at her navel and she flew upward. The tunnel area began to dissipate around her, and as suddenly as her feet left the tunnel floor, they just as quickly made contact with soft mud. She looked up and saw the large, full moon. Feeling grass and mud between her fingers, she concluded she was outside and stood up. The whole area was lit in an orange-yellow glow. Where was this light coming from if she was outdoors?

Anaxandra turned around, her eyes widened in horror as, in the distance, she saw giant flames engulfing her home. The fire eagerly ate away at the wood paneling, burning away her childhood home. The roof she spent many nights stargazing on had caved in, and fed the murderous flames, causing them to dance in delight. Ignoring the burning sensation in her feet and the soreness of her legs and neglecting the aching in her chest she ran in to the darkness. She would run as far as her feet would take her. She would not look back.


	2. Impression

It was four-thirty in the afternoon and Draco sat at his desk thumbing through the piles of paperwork and files that he had yet to read through. The department was experiencing a high fluctuation of missing people's cases and murders in the past year, and since there weren't many Aurors as of late all of them had been taking on three to eight cases at a time. There was simply too much work and too little time, and each case couldn't be thoroughly investigated.

After the war, people had gained some sense of false security; underestimating how much more the Department did than just hunt down Voldemort and Death Eaters. Many wanted peaceful lives away from dark magic and crime, leaving the few who heeded the call of Magical Law Enforcement in an unexpected flood of problems.

The department tried to get to each case as fast as they could, which caused them to skimp on the quality of their work. No case earned high priority or extra time due to inefficiency. Almost all of the murders were going unsolved and only a handful of the missing people were found. With the high volume of work that needed to be done, everyone in the department was working overtime and Draco wouldn't complain. Getting this job wasn't exactly easy, and he certainly wasn't the first choice for their hire just over a year ago, so he had no room to argue with his superiors.

For Draco, more time at work meant less time with his girlfriend, Astoria Greengrass, who was becoming less and less patient with his new career. He let out a sigh at the thought of cancelling dinner on her again and read the first new case file on top of the large pile.

_**Location:**__ Epping Forest_

_**Date/Time: **__17/9/2001 - 9:54am_

_**Case #1455:**__ Reported by Georgina Crow. Witness says she was walking her dogs in the forest near her home when she spotted a body, later identified to be Benjamin Cross, and immediately reported it to the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol when she saw a wand on his person. Upon the arrival of the investigation team, several other bodies were found and identified to be his wife, Eleanor Cross, and son Desmond Cross. Bodies were brutally beaten and several wounds were present, possible signs of torture. Further investigation is currently taking place._

Draco frowned and tossed the file aside. He wasn't particularly sensitive to the subject of death; a necessity when working as an Auror and a trait he gained being a Death Eater, but he didn't like the thought of it either. To have a whole family tortured and killed was just barbaric. The bulk of Draco's cases were only single murders and that was dreadful enough considering the investigating detective was the one who delivered the bad news to the family.

Each experience was even more difficult to witness than the last. Some people seemed shocked and had to take a while to adjust to the new information. Those were typically the siblings of the deceased or missing. There were some who sat in silence and said nothing but a 'thank you for informing us' and ushered him out of the door, and those tended to be the more distant family—the aunts, the cousins, and so on. But most of the reactions—coming from the parents, the spouses, and the children—were of the uncontrollable sobbing kind. In each of these situations, Draco saw the beginnings of a crumbling family that would never be the same again. There were no words of comfort and no acts of kindness that could ever soothe anyone in that kind of pain. And sometimes there was no family he could inform, but that wasn't a relief either. He didn't know which was worse: having to tell someone their loved one is gone, or knowing that he had no one to tell.

Yes, Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, Prefect of Slytherin House and biggest prat to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts, had somehow managed to gain emotions. Well, at least for the most part. It seemed that after the war, he had matured and evolved from an egotistical, seething little boy in to a decently moral young man. Of course he was still a bit of a prat, but he was working on it.

"Draco, do you have a moment?" The head of the Auror office, Gawain Robards, called as he approached Draco's cubicle, jerking him from his thoughts. His boss didn't have much of a fondness for him, so his approach was rather a surprise.

"Hello, Mr. Robards. Sure I have a moment," Draco lied, eyeing the mountain of papers on his desk and turning to face his boss.

Gawain, forcing a smile, let out a breath and said, "Bernard on level six got word of unauthorized portkey use near the Forest of Dean. He took a team out there and found a young woman in poor condition a couple miles away from where the portkey was used."

Draco, now a bit agitated, had just gained pointless information that didn't even concern him. Why was this even an important matter? There were murderers on the loose and missing people, for Merlin's sake! What was so special about unauthorized portkey use when Draco had to worry about proving his worth to this brightly-colored blob of a man? Honestly, the man was wearing pink suspenders and a light blue tie. Draco held back a sigh and turned back to his desk in annoyance, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. Maybe what they say is true: old habits die hard.

Mr. Robards leaned against the desk and crossed his arms, lowering his head. "We don't know who she is."

Draco furrowed his brow, confused. "That is impossible."

"She has no identification, she won't tell us her name, and no one recognizes her. We have nothing," he replied, shaking his head. "The interrogation process has been a complete failure; several of us are about ready to pull our hair out. We thought she was a Muggle who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, but when we tried to bring in a Legilimens, he said he was locked out. Unless they're teaching occlumency in Muggle schools, I'm quite certain she's a witch."

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking, what does this have to do with me?" Draco asked, puzzled. There were so many more cases that Draco should have tended to by now, but instead he was spending time with his boss, who quite blatantly, looked like it brought him pain to be talking to Draco.

"If this girl is a victim of an attack, this now falls into our hands, and frankly I haven't got the time for this girl's games. I need you to talk to her and find out who she is. We've had the whole Investigation department try to interrogate her, but... well..." He ran his hands through his hair and gave a dry chuckle, "she isn't being the most cooperative person as I have previously mentioned, and I know that your _history_ of being a Death Eater could possibly—"

Ah, so the man was in need of something he thought Draco had. Draco sighed at the acknowledgement of his dark past before interrupting, "Mr. Robards…"

"Gawain, please," he said in a calm, friendly tone that was topped off with a smile. It looked like desperation could make anyone a world-class actor.

"Gawain," Draco awkwardly went on, "I'd love to help, but as you can see I've got so much work already, and I'm so far behind…" This was Draco's way of saying that he already had a lot of work to do to, and that Gawain must be barking mad if he thought Draco could handle any more.

"This?" Gawain motioned to the files. Draco nodded.

Leaning in, he gave Draco a slight nudge on the shoulder. "I'll take these off of your hands if you can get this girl to talk."

The need for a more stable and less shaky relationship with his boss and his need for a change of scenery gave Draco the strength to give in and do what Gawain had asked of him.

* * *

Anaxandra was wrapped tightly in a thick blanket that was given to her upon her arrival to the Ministry. She was thankful; she only had her flannel pyjamas that were ruined when she fell in to a large pool of mud in the forest.

"Can you tell us your name, young miss?" The rather large, plump man that sat in front of her smiled, his crooked teeth a less than pleasing sight. He was the fifth person to try and pry at her, and so far had been the most persistent. She just stayed silent.

"Are you hungry?" The man held out a cauldron cake and smiled.

Did she look like a small child that could be swayed by sweets? It was almost insulting. The damn thing obviously had veritaserum in it! Anaxandra could feel someone trying to take a grasp of her mind and extract the information they needed, but she wouldn't allow it. As weak as she was, emotionally and physically, she put every single unit of energy towards her mental defenses. She was no longer in the forest, but this was still survival of the fittest and she refused to be weak.

Anaxandra shook her head and looked at him in a disgusted manner.

"Why won't you just tell us your name, miss? We want to help you." Leaning forward on his elbows, the man scratched his balding head with his pudgy fingers, obviously frustrated at Anaxandra's unwillingness to cooperate. "We found you unconscious in the Forest of Dean. What happened to you? Did you get lost?"

"I don't need your help, and I was not lost," she replied sternly, leaning back in her chair and wrapping the blanket even tighter around her shoulders. In truth, with her common sense clouded by fear and anger, Anaxandra had slipped down a muddy hill, her head colliding with a rock somewhere along the way. It was a foolish mistake that Anaxandra was currently trying to remove from her mental database.

The man forced a smile. "Maybe you'd like something else? Some tea perhaps or—"

"To be free of your horrendous presence and this god awful place." Anaxandra leaned forward and sneered, unable to control her annoyance any longer. She felt the prying cease.

While Anaxandra could be a bit snide, this wasn't her normal demeanor. Just because she was raised in the forest and away from civilization didn't mean she didn't know how to be polite, but this was her first time really interacting with people outside of her family. This man could have been the nicest man in the world, but due to some unfortunate circumstances, Anaxandra couldn't see him that way. In that moment, he was her enemy and he was armed with a delicious looking cauldron cake. She couldn't be defensive and forthcoming at the same time.

Placing his head in his hands and immediately ruffling what was left of his hair violently, the man stood up in defeat and shoved the cauldron cake in his mouth. Anaxandra was slightly amused by the look of the maddened, potbellied man in front of her, cake crumbs hanging on to his lips. Well, not so much just his lips but whole mouth region.

"Impossible!" He seethed before storming out. "She is_ impossible!_"

Heaving a sigh of relief, Anaxandra leaned back and closed her eyes. She was quite enjoying her very brief moment of silence when the distinct sound of the door opening and closing reached her ears. There were footsteps approaching her, and the skidding of a chair across the marble floor. A man cleared his throat, and with a deep breath through the nose, Anaxandra opened her eyes.

Sitting in front of her, back straight and hair smartly combed, was a rather handsome platinum blonde young man, about her age, with his hands on the table and fingers interlaced. He seemed to be examining her carefully, his eyes narrow and brow furrowed.

Anaxandra remained in her relaxed position and closed her eyes again. She was growing tired. "So, you're going to harass me as well?"

He didn't say anything. There was a slight tug at the corner of his mouth, but a very pensive look remained on his face, as if he were deciphering her like a code. She waited for the familiar swimming feeling inside of her skull that indicated someone was there. It was a surprise when her mind had remained untouched. The silence persisted for a few seconds before Anaxandra became thoroughly annoyed and let out a soft sigh.

"Lovely," Anaxandra opened her silvery gray eyes once more and met his steel gray ones. "I can only assume from the efforts of your fine colleagues that you're here to question me as well. Let me guess, you'll use intimidation to try and pry the answers out of me, or use over-bearing kindness in hopes that I will spill my secrets to you. Or maybe like your butterball of a colleague, you'll try to feed me until I explode and the truth bursts out of me."

"No," the man shook his head, slightly disheveling his blonde hair. He gave a small chuckle.

"Is your lack of communication skills supposed to somehow frighten me? Because it's working! Honestly, I am almost shaking with fear!" Her words were practically dripping with sarcasm, and he remained silent but his facial expression seemed amused. "Well if you aren't here to do any of those things, what are you here for, to waste my time?"

"I believe you are the one wasting my time, miss, and the time of my department." He countered. "We simply wish to know who you are."

"And like I've told all the others that have come before you, I would rather snog a troll than give you my name."

"Why is that?"

"Because I don't want to," Anaxandra answered, as if it was obvious.

"Just the answer I was looking for, congratulations! Due to your impeccable cooperation, you've earned your ticket out of here," the handsome wizard stated calmly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, "and straight to Azkaban."

The air in the room grew tense. Anaxandra had been slightly amused at first, but now she felt rigid. Something about this man was different from the others who had waltzed in here thinking they could easily coax information out of her. The fire in his eyes was real, and it grew even more intense.

"You want to play games? Fine, let's play a game." Leaning forward in his chair, a slight sneer began to contort his face and Anaxandra's heart began to race. "You're tired of questions, so be it. As am I. Now I'm_ demanding _that you give me your name."

Anaxandra remained silent. As the lump in her throat seemed to grow bigger, she did not let her nerves get the better of her. She refused to speak.

The man threw his head back and chortled, "Beg my pardon, I forgot to tell you the rules." He stood up and walked around to Anaxandra's side of the table and leaned himself against the edge, looking down at her. "And there is only one rule, so it should be fairly easy to remember: you answer me and I don't feed you to the Dementors. Understood?" Her gaze was cast downward as he began pacing around her. "Again, tell me who you are and why you used that portkey."

Silence.

"As I said before, you're wasting my time," he growled. Anaxandra felt his hands on the back of her chair. "If you won't tell us your name, maybe someone out there will recognize you."

"What?" Turning to face him, Anaxandra let the slightest twinge of fear cross her face, and the man did not let it go unnoticed.

"We'll just snap a picture of you and send it to the Prophet. They'll make it the front page, offer a hefty reward, and then maybe we'll get our answer." He let go of her chair and walked toward the door. "And while we're waiting, you will be sent to Azkaban for holding."

"No!" Anaxandra exclaimed, shooting straight up. "You can't do that…" With her face on the front of every_ Daily Prophet_, whoever attacked her family would know she was alive.

He turned on his heel and looked at her with a grim expression. "I'm quite sure that with a few galleons anything is possible."

"One condition," she frowned at how easily he had gotten to her, and she sat back down. "I'll tell you…on one condition."

Draco strolled back to his seat, a smirk lingering on his face. "And what would that condition be, exactly?"

"Put a silencing charm on this room right now."

He raised an eyebrow. "No one—"

"I'm not daft. I know you have your men listening in on this conversation right now," Anaxandra snapped, but then her expression softened. "I swear I will tell you what you need to know," she pleaded, sounding incredibly pathetic to her own ears. "Silence this room."

With a wave of his wand, he sat down and motioned for her to continue. "Your name."

"You first."

The man replied coolly, "Draco Malfoy."

Anaxandra let go of a breath and shamefully said, "Anaxandra Synder."

"Why do we not have you in our records, Miss Synder?"

"Next question."

Draco's expression became frustrated and he leaned forward once more, "You said—"

"I _said_," Anaxandra interjected, "I would tell you what you needed to know, and that question is irrelevant."

He rubbed his temples and leaned on one side of the table. "The Ministry will do nothing but help you. What are you so terrified of?"

"Not terrified, you dim-witted buffoon. I'm being careful," Anaxandra replied and rolled her eyes. Now he was just insulting her. "You know as well as I do there are eyes and ears everywhere that belong to some very dangerous people."

"And what exactly makes these eyes and ears so dangerous?"

This was killing Anaxandra. She couldn't stand giving up information this easily, but her options were limited. She was the only one of her family left alive and she needed to stay that way. She needed to find out who was hunting her, and why. She couldn't do that from Azkaban. "I'm in a…family business, I guess you could say."

"Again, wasting my time, Miss Synder. Less vague please," Draco droned, beginning to get annoyed at the lack of specificity.

"I'm a Hunter. Me and my family, we are Hunters."

He didn't look eased by her answer at all and just shook his head. "And what exactly do you hunt?"

"We've gained a lot of enemies over the years. Vampires, goblins, werewolves—" Anaxandra concisely replied.

"I don't have time for fabricated stories," Draco interrupted. He rolled his eyes and scoffed. "If you're going to lie, you might as well make it sound believable. You make yourself sound like the protagonist of a fairytale."

"I'm not lying!" she burst, standing up and slamming her hands on the table, causing a few strands of her dark hair to fall in front of her eyes. "You wanted information and I'm giving it to you!"

Draco looked at her, a frustrated expression contorting his face. He also stood up, his hands clenching the side of the table and snapped, "Our Magical Creatures department has never reported but a few cases of misconduct from those beasts and beings of which you speak—"

"Because of my family! If it weren't for us they would be running rampant in your peaceful streets, bringing nothing but havoc in their wake!" Breathing heavily and with red cheeks, Anaxandra stared at him ferociously. Now the fire in her eyes was beginning to outshine his, and Draco took notice. He motioned for her to sit again after he had taken his own seat, but she remained standing.

"Ignorance truly is bliss, isn't it?" And on her own terms, Anaxandra took a seat and let the heat leave her cheeks.

"Why were you in the Forest of Dean?"

"I was running," her voice softened a bit, thinking back to last night. "I had to."

"What exactly were you running from?"

"I don't know. I didn't see who they were but they…" she cleared the pesky lump from her throat, "they got the rest of my family—my parents, brother, and my little sister. They burned down our home. I was able to escape because of a portkey that was hidden in my home, and once I made it outside I just ran as far and fast as I could."

"For someone who has just lost her family and home, you don't seem to be fazed by it," Draco observed, cocking his head to the side. "You aren't shaken in the least?"

"My family was murdered and my home was burned down by someone who is freely walking this earth with a smile on their face, and you expect me to cry my heart out? I am not sad, Mr. Malfoy, I am furious. Crying would be extremely counter-productive and would waste my time even more than sitting here and answering your idiotic questions."

There was an exhale, and Anaxandra could see Draco in a battle against himself. The look on his face showed concern and he looked her straight in the eye and said, "I'm sorry for your loss."

With that he stood up and before he could open the door, Anaxandra called to him, "Where are you going? What's going to happen to me?"

He turned around and nodded, "I'll be back." And he walked out.

With a click of the door, Anaxandra slumped in her chair and suddenly became uneasy knowing that her future relied on this stranger.


	3. Similarity

Draco closed the door to the interrogation room behind him and noticed Gawain sitting on a bench just down the hall. The man was lazily slouched in his seat with a displeased expression on his face. Draco walked towards him and tried to mentally edit the information he had just gained to calculate a proper response to Gawain's impending question. His boss looked up at him and shakily stood. He took a swig from a flask in his coat pocket.

"It went silent in there," he observed, looking at Draco with suspicion. "And as far as I'm concerned, the suspect doesn't call the shots in a Ministry interrogation room."

"I'm sorry sir, but I had to. It was the only way she was going to trust me enough to tell me anything," Draco countered firmly. "I made progress."

"Excuse me if I sound a bit annoyed, but since someone put a silencing charm on _my_ interrogation room, I wasn't able to hear anything. So please, indulge me with the riveting details of this progression."

Draco was a bit surprised by his boss's uncharacteristic behavior, and judging by the looks of the passing glances from his colleagues, they were shocked as well. He never really took too much of a liking to Draco but he never spoke that way to anyone. His normally sunny disposition was replaced by the bags under his eyes and he seemed extremely uncomfortable. The stress of all the recent murders must have been weighing heavily on the head of the Auror office and all the raids seemed to be exhausting him. Draco knew he was right to be upset, though. It wasn't within his jurisdiction to put a silencing charm on the room especially when he knew, in fact, that his boss would be listening.

He took a moment before answering. "She didn't tell me much, only that her home was raided last night."

Draco braced himself for the fury of words that would spew out of Gawain's mouth at the lack of information that he obtained, but he was mildly surprised when Gawain said nothing but, "Does she know who did it? Did she see them?"

"No, she ran away before they could find her."

He knew it was wrong to withhold information from his boss like this, but Draco couldn't really tell his boss, the one person who had ultimate control of his position within the Ministry, that the woman was a "Hunter" and that her and her family "hunt" evil beings throughout Britain and all the while remaining undetected by the Ministry. Even her name sounded fake. Draco knew that Gawain's reaction wouldn't be much different from his own if he had learned that information.

An awkward silence lingered in the air and made Draco feel uncomfortable. Gawain just stood there, looking down the hall at the interrogation room door with a thoughtful look on his face. He sighed. "With all the trouble she's been giving our investigation team I'd like to send her straight to Azkaban on suspicion. I mean, for Merlin's sake she made poor Timothy cry! But, that isn't protocol and she is a victim of a violent crime. She seems to be the only survivor of these masses of attacks and needs to be put in protective custody." He took a piece of paper and a pen from his coat pocket and scribbled something down, handing it to Draco.

"What's this, sir?" Draco asked, reading what he recognized to be an address.

"Where the girl will be held and where you'll be working for the next few weeks, considering you're the only one she'll talk to," he replied, his expression unchanging as Draco seemed to go into a state of shock. "You'll have plenty of extra time now that I've taken those cases off of your hands. And maybe try to find out more from her. Get her to trust you. I have a feeling she isn't giving us all the details we want."

"Sir, I hope you don't mind me asking," Draco started, and he noticed that Gawain let out an annoyed sigh by this point, "but don't we have more important investigations to take care of right now? She doesn't seem to want to be put into protective custody in the first place, and we're already short staffed."

"It doesn't matter what _she_ wants, Mr. Malfoy. The only thing that matters is that she could possibly be a vital piece to everything that's been happening this past year. If she is, we need to find out why. We can't do that if we can't track her, can we?" Gawain turned on his heel and began walking away, leaving Draco to comprehend the events that just took place.

Gawain turned back to Draco once more and called to him before heading back to his office, "I suggest you brush up on the formalities of protective custody, Mr. Malfoy. And good luck to you!"

Oh, Draco knew what it entailed to put her into protective custody, and it made him want to pull his hair out just thinking about it. This was worse than paperwork. Maybe he could ask to have it back or something. He cursed under his breath and looked at the interrogation room door in dismay.

_'Bollocks,'_ Draco thought to himself, _'just…bollocks.'_

* * *

Anaxandra sat on the bed and hugged her knees to her chin. The two Aurors who brought her here were still in the kitchen doing Merlin knows what. For all she cared, they could be playing nude wizard's chess for chocolate frogs and she still wouldn't give a damn. She just wanted some time to herself knowing that it would be a very long time until she would be alone again.

_"You will remain in protective custody until the head of the Auror office deems it unnecessary. You will be escorted to the holding house by apparition. You will be accompanied by an Auror who will make frequent visits and watch over you until the evening. You will not be allowed any communication to the outside world. If you have a wand, it will be taken from you immediately and given back when you are released from our supervision. Meals, clothing and a bed will be provided. Any sort of outings will be regulated by the head of the Auror office. If it is concluded that you are using our protective custody for any other reason than to be protected from any physical or magical harm, then you will be dropped off to Azkaban."_ The monotonous, nasally voice of a female Auror kept repeating in her head in a drone-like tone.

At the very least, her living conditions were more than satisfactory. It was a small, but cozy house they brought her to. Well, at least cozier than she was used to. There was one bedroom with a full-sized bed, two bathrooms, and a medium-sized kitchen that resided downstairs, adjoined with a living room. When she moved the curtain and looked out of the window, she noticed the hustle and bustle that made up the suburban streets of London. Watching the people walk casually past the house had colored her green with envy. She didn't know how long she had wished she could do something like that; to just do as she wished and be, well, carefree.

Anaxandra let the curtains fall over the window once more and turned to examine the small bedroom. Although it was not of a substantial size, it was nicely decorated. The smooth wooden floor was a rich, dark mahogany color that complemented the dark blue color of the walls. Thick, gray curtains covered the windows, and the same shade of gray made up the covers on the bed that took up the center of the room. The ceilings were high, giving the room a regal feeling. There was a single full-length mirror just across from her that stood next to a dresser and wardrobe. When opening the drawers to the dressers Anaxandra, as the female Auror said, found them fully stocked with clothes already: shirts, pants, knickers, jumpers—the basics. Looking down at her own clothes, she realized she was still in the muddy flannel pajamas from the night before and that her hair was caked with dirt. She also noticed that she didn't exactly smell like a budding rose in spring, so she pulled out a white t-shirt and loose fitting cotton pants and walked over to her private bathroom to take a shower.

Anaxandra walked out of the bathroom. Her damp hair fell half way down her back and wetted her shirt in little droplets. It felt good to have the mud and grime washed out of her hair and off of her body. Noticing the clock on the wall, she saw that it was about eight o' clock, which meant the sun was almost set. She rushed to the window to see a dark, starless sky. A frown crept onto her face. She forgot that the stars didn't shine in the city.

"This will have to do for now." She sat in the middle of her bed, taking her right hand and raising it to the ceiling. With one sweeping motion from the right side of the room to the left, the ceiling became a night sky. The swirl of blues and pinks sprinkled with stars made her smile. She carefully reached up and pulled down the group of stars, which she knew all too well to be Cygnus, and held the cross-shaped constellation in her hands. The tiny stars twinkled happily, and she smiled. Calmness flooded her body, and for the first time that day she felt at peace. Even though conjuring her model universe was fun and beautiful, nothing compared to what was really out there in the night sky. The real stars were not something procured by magic. They were something naturally spectacular.

Just as she was about to grab another cluster of stars, her door opened and a voice traveled through. "Synder?"

Of course it had to be him. Why wouldn't it be? She was a fool to think the gods were done torturing me her. "Merlin, haven't you ever heard of knocking!" Anaxandra let the constellation float back up to its proper place and got rid of the small galaxy on her ceiling.

"Why? Are you undressed?" Draco stuck his head in the door and curiously looked over to her.

Her cheeks started to burn. "Are you bleeding mental? What if I _had_ been undressed!"

"Then the door would have been locked." He smirked at how her gray eyes burned with animosity towards him. He noticed that she had showered and smiled. "I'm flattered that you would freshen yourself up for me."

"You insufferable… I _swear_," She sighed, rolling her eyes at him.

"Don't bite the hand that feeds you, Synder," Draco fully opened the door and held up a plastic bag that squeaked of styrofoam take-away boxes. A heavenly scent was wafting its way to her and much to her stomach's dismay; she immediately realized she hadn't eaten all day.

She stood up and walked to the door, pausing in front of him. Looking at the bag, she snatched it out of his hands and continued down the stairs without saying a word of thanks.

"You're welcome," he said, trailing behind her.

Draco sat at the dinner table to eat his food, while Anaxandra sat atop the kitchen counter with her food in her lap. The sight of soup and bread caused her stomach to growl loudly.

"Better feed the beast, Synder," Draco said as he took a bite of his sandwich, "before it breaks loose and eats us all alive."

Anaxandra scrunched her nose at him in annoyance, but picked up the bread in her box and dipped it in the soup. After taking a bite, she let out a small moan of approval at the delicious soup and sourdough bread in her lap. For the remainder of their meal, they ate in silence. Draco had been reading the Evening Prophet and Anaxandra had just been focused on devouring her soup. It reminded her of the type her mother used to make and that brought her some sort of comfort.

She could remember when her mum would pick fresh herbs from their garden and gather clams from the beach a few miles away, then on her way back would get fresh bacon from the farmer's market. Anaxandra allowed a slight curve of her lips to grace her face at the memory, but it was soon wiped off of her face when she got a good look at herself in the glass of the window beside her.

It almost hurt to see her reflection. Her button nose, heart shaped face, slender frame and full lips belonged to her mother while her silvery gray eyes and dark auburn hair belonged to her father. Dysphoria started coursing through her veins. Her father had warned her about this very thing happening. He reminded her that because of the business they were in, anything could happen no matter the protective measures he had taken. She never thought it would actually happen, and he never properly prepared her for this. It was probably because he didn't fully believe it himself.

She looked over at Draco. He was quite intrigued with what he was reading in the Prophet; the creases on his forehead and rapid eye movements suggested so. Anaxandra was in deep thought herself. It was curious to her that this conceited, stuck-up man was the person she had to learn to live with for Merlin knows how long. In a matter of a day, they turned from complete strangers into… well she didn't know. A baby sitter? Prison warden? Keeper? Whatever his imaginary title might be, she knew that at some point in time, she would have to trust him or at least tolerate him. Something about him—their attitude toward each other, their mutual hate of being here—made her believe that there was a similarity between them that Anaxandra recognized, but the mirror was foggy. It seemed much deeper than that. She wouldn't use that as a reason to be friendly. He was an arse after all, and she was almost certain that friendship wasn't his goal either.

Even Anaxandra knew that, like Blast-Ended Skrewts, the minute you put two audacious people together and keep them together for any amount of time, you can trust one of them to die in a horrible, fiery death. The minute she saw past his thin veil of civility back at the Ministry, she concluded that Draco was going to be a worthy opponent in this domestic battle for dominance. She did sympathize with him though. A blind man would be able to tell that this wasn't his first choice of assignment. As much as she didn't want him to babysit her, he definitely didn't want to be the babysitter, especially after how she had been acting towards him.

The thoughts swimming through her head started to overwhelm her, and all she wanted to do was sleep. Throwing the takeout box in the bin, she stood from the counter and went to make her way upstairs, bidding him a good night. Before she could make it out of the kitchen, he also stood up, warned her to not try and leave or she'll be "stunned faster than you could say 'hex'", and disappeared with a popping sound.

* * *

It was about nine-thirty in the evening when Draco arrived at his flat, tossing his briefcase full of files on the couch. Gawain said that there was just too much work at the department to allow Draco a free pass just because he had to deal with Anaxandra, and to Draco's dismay, happily handed him all the cases he promised would be taken off his hands. That sneaky bastard.

A familiar black trench coat lay neatly on the couch along with an equally familiar black leather purse. Tossing his coat off, he eagerly walked into the kitchen to see Astoria wearing a rather flattering little black dress, her hair done in an elegant up-do, and makeup done to perfection. He smiled and walked over, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in the crook of her shoulder, inhaling her floral scent.

"Hello, beautiful," he stood up straight and looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry for being late again."

Astoria flashed her award-winning smile at him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "It's alright, love. I understand," then she sighed. That damn sigh that Draco knew all too well that meant it_ wasn't _all right and that she_ didn't _understand.

Draco frowned. "You look stunning, by the way. Are you staying the night?"

"Thank you, but no. I have to get home. It's late," she said, unwrapping herself from his embrace and making her way towards the living room. "I just wanted to make sure you got home safe since I was here anyways."

Grabbing her hand, Draco pulled her back in to him once more and caressed her lower back. "But I've only just arrived, what's the rush? You could just stay the night and I could make it up to you…" he began to move his hand lower when she stopped him.

"Maybe next time, Draco. I'm awfully tired. Father's banquet lasted much longer than expected," she sighed again, escaping his grasp once more. Astoria grabbed her coat and purse from the couch and walked over to the fireplace, grabbing a fistful of floo powder. "Have a good evening."

And before he could say 'I love you,' she had blown him a kiss and disappeared in a blaze of green flames.

Now it was Draco's turn to sigh. He hated sleeping alone.


	4. Lonely

Anaxandra lay in her bed, looking up at her little galaxy. It was early in the morning, around five am, and she decided that she wouldn't rise until the sun did. Nebulas and stars began twirling around each other, encompassed in some sort of cosmic dance. It all reminded her of the clear nights she spent on the roof of her home. It was flooding back to her now—the warm summer nights, the cool breeze of nighttime, and the welcoming twinkle of the constellations in the sky. When she was just a little girl, her mother used to say that the gods had decorated the heavens with stars in an attempt to remind us that even though we live in an ugly world, beauty still exists.

She smiled. When she told her father what her mum had said, he used to laugh that booming laugh of his and say, "The stars? Nonsense! You and your mother are my reminders, love. You two shine more brightly than any damn star in the sky!" And then her mother would scold him for cursing in front of the children.

With the sun's rays starting to nudge their way through the cracks of her curtains, Anaxandra showered, brushed her teeth, and went downstairs to the kitchen.

The kitchen was larger and much nicer than what Anaxandra was used to. Along with a sink and oven, it had a large refrigerator that had counters and overhead cabinets on either side. The counters were topped with a smooth gray laminate material, while the floors, cabinets and base counter faces were made of a light-colored wood that Anaxandra recognized as birch wood. A small, square dining table also stood on the same wooden floor as the kitchen with two dining chairs positioned across from each other. It was nothing more than a very basic, simple kitchen.

The sound of a clearing throat caused Anaxandra to grimace, turn around, and see the top of a very blonde head peeking over the back of the large, gray couch that resided in the living room.

"Why are_ you _here? Don't you have an office to be at?" she asked coldly, her good mood fading. She knew the answer to her own question but she couldn't help but hide the distaste she had for him.

"I have to tend to your well-being first," Draco replied facetiously, flipping to the next page in the post. "Breakfast is on the table."

A styrofoam box sat on the dining table, a plastic fork and knife lying next to it. Anaxandra opened it, revealing hash browns, an omelet, and bacon. "Thank you," she managed to say as affably as she could before taking a large bite out of her food.

"Look who learned their manners."

"I am a civil human being after all, Malfoy," she replied with a full mouth.

"Says the woman eating as if her food will run away." Draco took a sip of coffee and turned the page of the Prophet. She narrowed her eyes and scrunched her nose at the back of his thick, blonde head, and slowed the shoveling of food in to her mouth.

"Just how long do I have to put up with you?" Anaxandra growled, putting her fork down and pushing the food away from her. She had lost her appetite all of a sudden.

"Oh look, the Bulgarians lost their third game straight. I guess after Krum left, they couldn't find a decent seeker… I'm sorry Synder, did you say something?" he muttered to himself.

His calm and arrogant demeanor was starting to burn Anaxandra's ears. What really pissed her off was that the calmer he was, the more Anaxandra felt the urge to punch him in the back of his stupid, well-groomed blonde head. No matter what she threw at him, he always had something that beat it. It was like he could sense her anger, and then feed off of it like some bloody demon that traveled through the nine circles of hell just to torment her, and she couldn't win.

"_I said,_" she said through gritted teeth, "how long do I have to be locked up in this damn house with you?"

"So quick to be rid of me, Synder? And here I thought we were becoming the best of mates," he said, standing up from the couch and walking over to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.

Anaxandra's cheeks were becoming warm and and all of his cleverly snide remarks were beginning to give her a headache. Leaning forward at the table with her eyes closed, she massaged her temples to try and ease the light pounding in her head.

Draco looked over at her and rolled his eyes. "I don't know how long you'll be here. It could be a few days or a few months, depending on what my boss says. Trust me, I don't want to be here either."

"I think we should establish some rules," she suggested, still brooding.

Draco snorted and raised an eyebrow. "Rules?"

"Yes. Like you said, we could be here for months and there are a few things I want to get straight. I've come up with three conditions."

"You know, for someone who is technically a prisoner, you're making an awful lot of demands."

She stood and walked in to the kitchen to make herself her own cup of tea, struggling to grab a teacup because of how high they were. Draco reached up to get her one, but she slapped his hand away. "I don't need your help. Let's start with that."

Draco retracted his arm and went back to sipping his tea. "Fine with me."

"I don't expect us to be friends, so none of that 'bonding' bullshit will take place here."

He shook his head. "I wasn't really planning on it, but whatever you say."

"And the third condition," she said, having finally grabbed a teacup and pouring in some hot water and tea leaves, "my room is my own personal space. If you're going to come in, knock first."

"I've only ever peeked my head in _once,_ and you're still wounded about it. If you would learn to utilize the lock then you wouldn't be talking about this."

"I'm being serious, Malfoy. I like my alone time and I expect you to understand that."

"Synder, I don't care to bother you while you're in your room doing Merlin knows what," he glanced at his watch, chugged the rest of his tea and grabbed his briefcase, "so long as you leave me in peace while I'm working down here."

Anaxandra crossed her arms and looked at him sternly. "Fine."

And with that, Draco apparated, leaving Anaxandra to enjoy the temporary silence of the house.

It was a dull autumn afternoon. The fallen leaves on the sidewalk ranged from deep red to bright yellow, and judging by the slight condensation on the windows, it was quite chilly outside. Anaxandra sat on her bed, hugged her knees to her chest and stared out of the window. The oversized knit sweater and leggings she was wearing were keeping her warm, seeing as the house didn't have the best heating. She had noticed gray rain clouds in the distance when a tiny black bird landed on a branch that was just within her sight. It lingered, staring at her with its head cocked to the side as if analyzing her.

The rules were actually doing their job. It kept some sort of peace throughout the house, and minimized the bickering. The third rule proved to be the most useful, along with her general detainment. It gave her time to think in a safe place while not having to worry about things like food and shelter. It was time she spent cultivating ways of trying to track down who killed her family, but she always hit the same dead end quickly. Her father and brother were the ones who knew all of the contacts and informants' whereabouts, not her. She knew a few, but what if a few wasn't enough? These weren't things that they had written down either, and even if they did it wouldn't do her any good considering the current state of their home.

She thought long and hard about the next steps she needed to take, and there was one plan that had even the slightest chance of working, but she didn't like the thought of it. It wasn't the brightest plan, but if she could get Draco to trust her enough to allow her access to records within the Ministry, then maybe she could track down the few informants she did have stashed away in her own personal knowledge. If she could lie well enough to her mother to convince her that it wasn't her who had stepped in her garden and ruined her plants, then maybe she could lie her way through this as well. Again, this was a plan that had a very slim chance of working, seeing as her and Draco weren't on the best of terms and the rules she had already laid out to him strictly stated that there would be no pleasantries exchanged, things could get complicated. But they were her rules, right? It was her right to bend them a little if she pleased.

* * *

It had been two weeks since she had been found in those woods, cold and alone. It had been two weeks since she was taken to the Ministry and put in to protective custody, and if that wasn't enough, the sight of that little bird reminded Anaxandra that it had been two weeks since she had even stepped outside. There, she was trapped like a—well, the original saying said caged _bird_… But she wasn't a bird: a small, weak thing that sang songs all day in hopes of raising its own spirits? No. That wasn't how Anaxandra saw herself. She was not weak and she did not sing. She was an apex predator, a savage wolf… but when you strip away its freedom, its ability to hunt and prowl, and its pack, you take away what makes it a wolf and you are left with nothing but a mangy dog.

The skies grew darker and droplets of water began panging against the window. The little bird did what Anaxandra longed for—it flew away.

Shivers began creeping up her spine as she felt the stillness of the room; stillness that meant she was alone. It had been what Anaxandra yearned for while being held here and yet it had become unsettling to her. She couldn't take it anymore. She stood up and raced for her door, concluding that even Draco's presence was more comfortable than the aching lonely of this room.

Upon entering the kitchen, Anaxandra saw a myriad of photographs, paperwork, and notes all littering the table. At the end opposite end, Draco seemed to have fallen asleep and by the looks of everything he had been working tirelessly through the early morning, and on his day off nonetheless. His head lay in his folded arms that rested upon the table; his breathing was steady and shallow. He was twitching a bit, probably dreaming. Watching as he would occasionally inhale and exhale deeply, she felt something. It wasn't her normal annoyance or anger towards him. The feeling wasn't exactly foreign to Anaxandra either, but she couldn't ignore it. She felt… the urge to make him coffee. Yes, because that's how normal people feel when they spend two weeks with someone who feeds them and keeps them company, even though they annoy them to no end. Not some sort of friendship or camaraderie, just the incessant urge to brew coffee.

The sound of the coffee cup meeting the table caused Draco to stir, his head wearily lifting to see the blurry swirl of steam swaying up and out of it. Anaxandra sat next to him and sipped from her own cup of tea.

"What time is it?" he asked, his voice cracking. He stretched his neck, and then proceeded to stretch his arms and back.

"About two in the afternoon," she said quietly, taking another sip of her tea. "I made you some coffee, you should drink it."

He reached for the mug, but then hesitated. "I see you're trying to poison me."

"Only with kindness," the sweet tone in her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Draco took a sip of coffee, his eyes slowly closed as he took another long drink before putting the mug down. "Thank you," he said, opening his eyes to look at her. "That is a damn good cup of coffee."

Avoiding eye contact with him, she hastily looked over all the photographs on the table. "If you don't mind me asking, what have you been working on all morning?"

Holding his coffee in one hand and a piece of paperwork in the other, Draco leaned back in his chair. "The same four cases I've been working for weeks now. I've been looking over the evidence, but I can't find anything new."

Anaxandra began examining the pictures herself, examining every photo carefully before one in particular grabbed her attention. She grabbed it and put it in front of her on the table. The picture was gruesome. A man was sprawled out on the floor of a forest judging by the flora surrounding his body. There were deep lacerations in his chest area and chunks of flesh were missing from his neck and legs. Something didn't seem quite right about the picture, Anaxandra thought to herself.

"Did they clean up the body in this picture?" she asked, turning the picture for Draco to see it clearly.

"No, they don't touch the remains before photographing them and examining the scene, why?"

"It's just… He has all these cuts on his body and slabs of flesh missing. Wouldn't you think there would be more blood?"

Draco was about to respond when Anaxandra's stomach happened to growl very loudly.

She smiled. "It looks like doing your job for you really works up an appetite."

"Real cheeky, aren't you?" Draco sneered, putting his coat on and walking out the front door. "I'll be back soon."

The light drizzle of rain that Anaxandra saw this morning was starting to grow heavier. She sat and watched from the counter as raindrops were starting to hit the glass of the windows harder, and the trees outside were beginning to slightly sway. Her heart was beginning to race. As she reluctantly looked outside, a smear of dark clouds and rain nearly flooded the streets. Pressing the palm of her hand against the window and feeling the vibrations of water smashing in to the glass, she frowned. If there was anything Anaxandra hated more, it was thunderstorms. No, if there was anything Anaxandra hated more it was the fact that she was afraid of thunderstorms. Such a childish thing to be afraid of and something her brother teased her for incessantly. The wind was picking up and the trees outside were beginning to shake violently. Leaves began swirling around and smacking on to the window before flying off in to the tumultuous high-speed winds again. The low rumbles of an angry storm were in the distance when the lights in the house started flickering just slightly. As the flashes of lightning were becoming more frequent and the thunder began booming louder and louder, the scene outside began looking more like a smeared, gray watercolor painting.

_'I never thought I'd be saying this, but I hope Draco comes back soon…' _she pathetically thought to herself.

_**BOOM!**_

The lights flickered off, and Anaxandra ran to the couch and let out a whimper. The room was dark; she could have lit the fireplace for light, but she was too scared to move, let alone cast a spell. The lightning outside filled the room with bright light, but only for a moment. Anaxandra curled up in a ball, sank in to the deepest part of the couch and stared at one spot on the floor of the living room, trying to steady her uneven breaths.

It was no more than two minutes of staring in one spot, the dividing line where the wooden floor of the kitchen met the soft carpet of the living room, that something caught Anaxandra's eye. She stiffened herself and held her breath. Without turning her head, her gaze shifted to the corner of the kitchen. The whole room was dark except for a few areas that were exposed to the lightning, but there was something about this corner of the room that made it so much darker…

The sound of the front door slamming open made her gasp. Anaxandra gripped her sweater so tightly with one hand that her knuckles were white, and her other hand was held over her mouth in surprise.

"Brilliant, the storm knocked out the lights. _Lumos!_" Draco walked in to the kitchen with his wand lit at the tip, held up in one hand, and a bag of food in the other, not noticing Anaxandra on the couch. "Synder, this better be the best damn dinner you've ever had in your life after what I had to venture through to get it… Synder?" He swept his gaze across the living area until his eyes settled on Anaxandra sunk in to the couch and clinging to her sweater for dear life. Another clap of thunder caused her to embarrassingly jump again.

"Are you afraid of the storm?" Draco asked in a surprised tone. "The brave Anaxandra Synder, _Hunter _extraordinaire, is scared of a little thunder?" He set the bag of food on the table, then his wand, to shake off his wet jacket.

"I never said I was 'Hunter extraordinaire', and I'm not afraid," Anaxandra said, getting up from the couch and slowly walking over to the kitchen. The corner that was so dark was now just like any other corner of the kitchen. "I'm just…"

"Shaking with fear," he said blatantly, an amused smirk playing on his face. "Now stop staring at the floor and come get this food."

Anaxandra narrowed her eyes at him and decided not to entertain him more by becoming angry. Instead, she grabbed the bag of food and opened the top box. Her nose scrunched in disgust at the food that, whatever it was, was tossed and mixed together in a rather disgusting looking mess, "What is it?"

"Well, it was supposed to be a Cornish pasty. It wasn't exactly a calm autumn breeze out there you know," Draco replied, opening his own box, and finding the same tossed up mess.

Draco had lit a fire in the fireplace across from the couch and both sat down at opposite ends, slowly eating their food in silence. The fire was warm and welcoming. The storm was still raging outside but Draco didn't complain about the flooding streets and Anaxandra didn't jump at the sound of thunder. There was a silent, but mutual feeling of presence between them. For the first time in weeks, neither of them felt alone.


End file.
